


talk to me

by dygonilly



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hoshi (horny hoshi), Kissing, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voice Kink, wonwoo's tiny ass waist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/pseuds/dygonilly
Summary: The couple on screen start having sex, cameras held on a close shot of their mouths, and Wonwoo feels it when Soonyoung holds his breath. He starts watching with purposeful detachment because it’s been a while since he’s even kissed someone else, let alone had sex, and his body always reacts too easily. Especially around Soonyoung.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 32
Kudos: 372





	talk to me

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be kissing practise but it's like... adjacent. idk man. gobble it up. enjoy it. hope it's fun.

When Soonyoung texted him to come downstairs and keep him company, Wonwoo had rolled out of bed, tugged on some sweatpants and padded down to the second floor, glad for the invitation. They hardly need permission to share each other’s space, not after living together for so long, but it’s always nice to be asked. 

Wonwoo feels too sleepy to bother reading the subtitles over Soonyoung’s head. They’re lying at a strange diagonal angle, Wonwoo pressed up against Soonyoung’s side with his head resting on a pillow and his hand patting random rhythms against Soonyoung’s forearm and his stomach over his tank top.

Soonyoung is lying on his back, head tipped to the side to watch the movie. His neck is stretched out, his shirt is all displaced around his collarbones, and he won’t stop touching his mouth. 

It’s not normally a problem. Over the years Wonwoo has catalogued all of Soonyoung’s odd habits, how his body moves or stills depending on his mood. He’s a fidgeter. He absently thumbs at his bottom lip all the time, tugs at the hems of shirts and sleeves; not always his own. After a while it just became something in Wonwoo’s periphery, but now—

Wonwoo looks for a bit longer, eyes lingering on the slow catch and release of Soonyoung’s bottom lip against the pad of his index finger. He feels warm and sleepy; he doesn’t catch himself as quickly as he usually would.

Suddenly, Soonyoung fidgets so much he elbows Wonwoo in the stomach. 

“Ow. What’s with you?” 

“Hm?” Soonyoung flops around a little more. “Nothing.”

“Okay, then lie still,” Wonwoo says, pressing down on Soonyoung’s stomach to settle him, fingers flared, thumb grazing the lowest edges of his rib cage. “You’re gonna give me a bruise.”

Soonyoung turns his head to grin, teeth out. “Everything gives you a bruise.”

“Shut up.” Wonwoo shuffles down a little so that he can rest his cheek on Soonyoung’s shoulder and close his eyes. Soonyoung hums and asks, “Comfortable?” Wonwoo nods. It’s raining outside and the mix of sounds coupled with the warm softness of Soonyoung’s body and his sheets drags him back into sleep like quicksand. 

Until Soonyoung starts fidgeting again.

“Yah, seriously,” Wonwoo grumbles, reaching up for Soonyoung’s wrist without opening his eyes. His fingers catch Soonyoung’s bottom lip by mistake and this close, it’s hard to miss the way Soonyoung inhales, sharp and quick, but he valiantly ignores it. He shoves his palm against Soonyoung’s nose and Soonyoung pretends to convulse like he’s being asphyxiated, eyes rolling back. 

“Nine-one-one,” Wonwoo gasps, moving his hand off Soonyoung’s face to shake his shoulder half-heartedly. “We’re losing him!” Soonyoung makes a gurgling sound that fractures into laughter, forever incapable of carrying a bit through to the end without giggling in the middle. Wonwoo thinks it’s cute, even if he is flopping around on the mattress like a fish out of water. 

“I’ve died,” Soonyoung announces, finally stilling. He cracks open one eye. “The guilt will haunt you forever.”

“Tragic,” Wonwoo deadpans.

Soonyoung wrinkles his nose at him before turning his head back to watch the film, one hand moving under his shirt to absently scratch at his stomach, exposing the skin above his waistband, the pink marks the elastic of his shorts have left behind. Wonwoo reaches over to tug the hem down, knuckles brushing his skin. 

“What was that for?” asks Soonyoung.

Wonwoo blinks. “Sorry. Habit.” 

Soonyoung hums. The couple in the film start bickering about something, too close and too loud, and Soonyoung turns back to read the subtitles. It doesn’t take long before the arguing turns into desperate kissing, to pulling at clothes and knocking things over in their scramble for the bedroom. 

Wonwoo still feels kind of weird watching sex scenes with other people. It’s not that he’s a prude it’s just… awkward. Even if he knows more than he strictly needs to about the sexual experience of the other members—through stories and too-thin hotel walls—there’s always this prickly thing that settles in the air when he has to watch these things with them around. 

Soonyoung is the biggest over-sharer of them all. It should make it less weird. It doesn’t.

The couple on screen start having sex, cameras held on a close shot of their mouths, and Wonwoo feels it when Soonyoung holds his breath. He starts watching with purposeful detachment because it’s been a while since he’s even kissed someone else, let alone had sex, and his body always reacts too easily. Especially around Soonyoung. 

He starts looking at the bookshelf beside the screen, thinks about the chores he has to do later, what they should order for dinner, anything to get his mind away from the sounds flooding the bedroom and the way Soonyoung’s breathing has gone shallow beside him. 

Like ghosts, the thoughts come back anyway. 

Flickering images of Soonyoung in their place, making sounds when teeth sink into his skin, when they tug at his lips, at his earlobes, fingers threaded through his hair the way Wonwoo knows he likes. Wonwoo’s stomach swoops dangerously and he thinks about messing up a dance move on stage to prevent his dick from getting hard against his best friend’s leg.

It feels like years before the scene finally finishes and Wonwoo relaxes, thinking he’s in the clear. 

Then Soonyoung lets out this big gusty breath towards the ceiling and Wonwoo tenses again. “You good?” he asks.

Soonyoung sighs. “Yeah, just…” He hesitates tellingly and Wonwoo grins. 

“What, you got worked up from that? They hardly showed anything, don’t tell me you’re all hot and bothered, Soonyoung-ah.” It’s the safest response. Teasing usually helps them find their balance again, pulls them back from weird moments that Wonwoo keeps catalogued like tally marks in the most quiet parts of his mind, packed away and never spoken of. 

Soonyoung is supposed to take the bait and turn the tension into something silly, something they can laugh off. Except this time he turns to look at Wonwoo with an uncertain mouth and blushing cheeks, and  _ oh _ , thinks Wonwoo, _ fuck.  _

“I can’t help it,” Soonyoung says, shoulders creeping up to his ears. For all his bluster, he gets shy in these kinds of moments. It’s terrible fuel for Wonwoo’s imagination. “It’s been a while since—well, you know.”

Yes, Wonwoo knows. Four months ago they passed each other in a hotel corridor and Soonyoung’s cheeks were flushed and his buttons were done up unevenly, and he tugged Wonwoo into his single room and excitedly told him all about the girl he’d just snuck out to have sex with. Wonwoo told him he was irresponsible, kicked him out, and jerked off in the shower thinking about it. 

It’s not like they’ve done anything together. They’ve never even kissed, but Wonwoo has imagined it an embarrassing number of times. 

“Right,” he says, aiming for casual. But then, because he’s an idiot and maybe because he wants to see how Soonyoung reacts, he adds: “Me too.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen before his face forcibly relaxes. “Right,” he nods. “Duh.”

The movie bleeds between them again. They’re still looking at each other, faces close enough that Soonyoung’s sporadic exhales fan out along Wonwoo’s throat. If the air has turned heavy, it’s only because he’s imagining it. Right?

Soonyoung chews on his bottom lip, leaving it shining after a swipe of his tongue. “So um,” he starts suddenly, fingers fiddling with the material of Wonwoo’s shirt. “Would you—I mean. Since we’re…” 

Wonwoo’s mouth goes dry. “Since we’re what?” he whispers. Soonyoung looks him in the eye like he’s been shocked into it, gaze darting back and forth and then down, to Wonwoo’s lips. His grip on Wonwoo’s shirt tightens. 

“We don’t have to, I just thought we could—I feel good around you and we’re both here and it could be fun if we just—” He shrugs. Wonwoo is quiet for so long that his expression starts to falter. “Or not. Sorry, forget it. That’s weird, right? It’s weird.” 

Wonwoo shakes his head. He gathers his courage in armfuls and fistfuls, more than what he needs to prepare for a performance on stage—because somehow this feels bigger than that, impossibly familiar yet so alien at the same time—and then he leans in to kiss Soonyoung with one hand shaking in the comforter and the other on Soonyoung’s chest.

Soonyoung makes a soft noise of surprise that melts into something sweet around Wonwoo’s top lip. He’d keep his eyes open if it weren’t really creepy, if only to see Soonyoung’s face as they kiss for the first time. Of course it feels wonderful. Soonyoung’s body under his and Soonyoung’s mouth moving slick and hot on his own; his hands gripping the front of Wonwoo’s shirt so tightly it’s gone taut around his shoulder blades. He doesn’t give Soonyoung a chance to catch his breath or change his mind between kisses, separating just enough to alternate between kissing Soonyoung’s top and bottom lip and then licking between them and groaning softly when Soonyoung’s tongue brushes against his. 

Wonwoo loses himself in it. At some point he moves on top of Soonyoung and Soonyoung’s hands go from gripping his shirt to sliding up the back of it, rucking it up around his armpits, exposing the knobs of his spine to the air and Soonyoung’s curious fingers. The waistband of his underwear is higher on his hips than his sweatpants. He doesn’t reach back to fix it.

“Wow you’re—” Soonyoung gasps when Wonwoo nips at his jaw “—like, really good at this. What—what the fuck?”

Wonwoo laughs into the side of his neck and pulls back, palms resting on either side of Soonyoung’s head. His lips are kiss-swollen and his hair is all messy. Wonwoo’s gut clenches at the sight. 

“Thanks,” he says, grinning. 

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Soonyoung says. “But I didn’t say stop.” He gets his hands on Wonwoo’s bare waist and starts tugging him back down, but he hesitates with a few inches left between their hips. “Is this… we can just make out if you want.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Yes. However.”

Wonwoo smirks and looks down between their bodies. Soonyoung squirms, tries to press his thighs together, but it doesn’t do much to hide the way his shorts are tenting. Wonwoo swallows down the spit pooling in his mouth. How does he tell Soonyoung that he’s imagined getting him off in at least a hundred ways over the past five years so it’s not weird that they’re both hard from making out, in fact, it’s a good thing, and seventeen-year-old Wonwoo would never believe this if he found out, if that was even possib—

“Hey,” Soonyoung laughs. 

Wonwoo looks up with red cheeks. “Yes,” he says. Ugh. “I mean, if you want—”

“I want to,” Soonyoung says quickly. “Please.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Cool.” Soonyoung grins and Wonwoo returns it, helpless, and god it’s not the time to be distracted by how warm and happy he feels around Soonyoung but it’s always simmering under the surface, so he can’t be blamed. 

When he leans down to kiss Soonyoung this time, he does it slowly.

He lets their lips slide together, feather light, before he presses his tongue along the plush bruise of Soonyoung’s bottom lip. He licks up the center and chases the way Soonyoung whimpers. The grip on his waist tightens and he finally lets Soonyoung guide their hips together. 

“Shit,” Soonyoung exhales, hand moving to Wonwoo’s lower back and pressing down. He’s trapped between Wonwoo’s legs but he still makes a valiant effort to move around, rolling from his core to press his erection against the crease of Wonwoo’s hip, head falling back, mouth open, eyes closed; every bit as beautiful as Wonwoo’s daydreams. 

He kisses Soonyoung properly and Soonyoung returns it eagerly. Their slow pace shatters under the weight of their desperation—Wonwoo’s desperation. The steady back and forth of his hips and his body against Soonyoung’s feels like heaven. Using his tongue and his teeth, he traces a line down Soonyoung’s throat. He brings two fingers up to tug the sleeve of his tank top aside so he can bite his collarbone and lick the sweat off his skin like he’s been wanting to for so long. “So good,” he mutters into the hollow of Soonyoung’s throat.

“Uh-huh,” Soonyoung breathes, thin and high, hands going clammy around Wonwoo’s waist. Wonwoo wants to be naked with him, but that’s too much for right now. Perhaps all of this is too much. He hopes Soonyoung won’t regret it once they’re done.

“Wonwoo, can I—”

“Anything.”

Soonyoung groans and moves his hands under Wonwoo’s sweatpants, over his underwear, and digs his fingers into Wonwoo’s ass, encouraging him to move faster. He gasps and follows the directive like his life depends on it. The friction is hard and too dry but it’s not about that. He gets his mouth back on Soonyoung’s and succumbs to it.

Soonyoung has other ideas. “Talk to me,” he pants, pulling back. Wonwoo chases his mouth and gets his cheek instead; he traces his tongue around the shell of Soonyoung’s ear and revels in the way it makes his whole body shudder. 

“What do you want me to talk about?” he asks, right into Soonyoung’s ear.

“Um,” Soonyoung whimpers, “whatever you want. Also.” He tugs at Wonwoo’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Wonwoo laughs and sits up to tug the material over his head, tossing it beside them. He goes to lie back on top of Soonyoung, but Soonyoung sits up instead, propping himself up with a hand. His eyes drop to Wonwoo’s chest and Wonwoo feels pinned in place, feels like he’ll burst into flames when Soonyoung brings his other hand up in a slow, searing path from his stomach to his throat. 

His thumb rubs back and forth across Wonwoo’s Adam’s apple, mouth sharpening into a grin when he feels Wonwoo’s rough swallow. “Like this,” he says, looking into Wonwoo’s eyes. “I want you like this.”

Wonwoo can only nod before Soonyoung is using the hand on his neck to pull their mouths back together. 

“I thought you wanted me to talk to you,” Wonwoo teases between kisses, spreading his knees farther apart so he can settle in Soonyoung’s lap, dick pressing against Soonyoung’s stomach.

“I do.”

“Why?” Wonwoo prods, rolling their hips together. Soonyoung tips his forehead against Wonwoo’s chest, breathing heavily.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m half naked, hard, and in your lap, Soonyoung-ah. Now is the time to speak up.”

Soonyoung chokes on a moan. “Okay,” he says hurriedly. “Okay. Your voice gets me off.”

Wonwoo’s movements stutter. “What, like, now?”

“Um. In general?” Soonyoung squeaks. Wonwoo’s soul does a fucking backflip inside his body.  _ Your voice gets me off.  _ Gets me off. Present tense. Happening right now, happened before, might happen again. Wonwoo’s dick twitches and Soonyoung definitely feels it. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung,” he growls into Soonyoung’s ear, shaking with how badly he wants. He kisses and bites Soonyoung’s mouth, pushing everything he’s feeling into the patterns he traces along his teeth, the tempo his tongue fucks in and out of Soonyoung’s pliant mouth. “Please let me touch you.”

Soonyoung answers him by guiding his hand between them, under the waistband of his shorts. 

Wonwoo groans, “You’re already so wet” and Soonyoung’s eyebrows pull together in pleasure.

“I’m not gonna last,” he says, a little panicked.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says. He keeps their mouths close together so that he can feel the way Soonyoung pants, the heat of his breath as he starts moving his hand. He’d be content to sit back and watch Soonyoung’s face as he pushes him towards his orgasm, but Soonyoung was brave enough to ask for what he wanted, so Wonwoo gives it to him. 

“You feel so good,” he says into his ear. Soonyoung holds onto his shoulders from the back, hands sliding a little on Wonwoo’s shoulder blades. “I’ve thought about this so many times, Soonyoung, you have no idea.” He wraps an arm around Soonyoung’s back to pull their bodies as close as possible. Soonyoung sobs when he palms the head of his dick, when he makes a ring with his fingers pumps steadily, the room echoing with the slick sounds above the music playing over the movie credits. 

“Are you sensitive?” Soonyoung nods into his shoulder. “You get this wet every time? Hm? Or just for me.” Wonwoo might feel embarrassed for it later, but pulling Soonyoung apart like this is giving him some raging sense of confidence. He’s rewarded with Soonyoung crying out against his collarbone and coming, muscles tense, nails digging into his back. He comes hard enough for some of it to hit Wonwoo on the chest, but he doesn’t care. Far from it.

Soonyoung’s still panting when Wonwoo forces their mouths back together. Soonyoung lets it happen, lets himself get tipped back onto the mattress, then he pulls back. 

“Alright.” Wonwoo freezes, tries not to freak out. Is this it already? This can’t be it. Soonyoung claps his hands together. “My mouth. Has an appointment with your dick. As soon as my soul returns to my body.”

Wonwoo laughs, part relieved and part shocked. “Really?”

“What do you mean, really?” Soonyoung asks, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He looks like a dream, all laid out and lax. His shorts are still pushed down past his hips and Wonwoo doesn’t know how to feel about the urge to rake his nails down his stomach and the dark curls at the base of his dick. Soonyoung starts rambling about Wonwoo’s hands and oh, it’s good and terrible knowledge to have, that Kwon Soonyoung doesn’t shut up even when he’s having sex. Forget the fake murder, this is what will haunt Wonwoo forever. 

After a few minutes, Wonwoo crawls over him and kisses him quiet. “You said something about your mouth near my dick?” he prompts.

“Right. Yes. On your back.”

Wonwoo happily complies. Soonyoung tries to pull his sweatpants off like a magician yanking a tablecloth away without disturbing the silverware, but it fails miserably. Soonyoung takes it in his stride, as he does with everything, and tries a second time, a little slower. 

“Your legs,” he says reverently, dragging his palms from Wonwoo’s bare ankles up to his inner thighs, spreading them out as much as Wonwoo’s flexibility will permit. He feels exposed and almost shy but Soonyoung is looking at him like he’s just discovered religion. He kisses a pattern along Wonwoo’s chest as he shuffles down to lay on his stomach between Wonwoo’s legs. He takes him into his mouth, all at once, and Wonwoo bites down on a shout as he tries his hardest not to kick his hips up. 

“Fuck,” he groans, head thrown back into the pillows. Soonyoung hums around his dick. He pulls up to the tip and gathers some more spit into his mouth. He makes eye contact with Wonwoo as he lets it drop off his tongue. “Oh my god,” Wonwoo gasps. “Where did you— _ shit _ —” 

Soonyoung sinks back down and sets a toe-curling pace—mouth wet, lips stretched out and beautiful, eyes watering. Wonwoo feels insane. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” he chants, gripping the headboard behind him. Soonyoung hums, takes him into his throat and swallows around the tip, and that's all it takes for Wonwoo to lock up and come, knuckles going white on the headboard, body shuddering through it. Soonyoung swallows it all, and Wonwoo feels delirious at the thought. He pulls back inch by inch, kissing the tip almost sweetly before pulling away entirely. 

Soonyoung sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth a little haphazardly. His chest is heaving almost as much as Wonwoo’s.

“You’re—” Wonwoo swallows harshly, catches his breath.

“Take your time,” Soonyoung grins, walking over to his bedside table on his knees and pulling out a pack of wet wipes. 

“Fuck you,” Wonwoo laughs.

“Maybe next time,” Soonyoung winks. Wonwoo stops breathing and Soonyoung cringes. “Ah. Too much?”

“No,” Wonwoo says quickly. He sits up and pulls one of the blankets over his very naked body. Soonyoung pretends to look put out. “I just. I mean. You’d want to… again?”

“Would you?” Soonyoung asks quietly. 

The culmination of five years worth of feeling slams into Wonwoo like another body. Somehow  _ yes  _ doesn’t feel like enough. Soonyoung deserves the right words, and Wonwoo’s mind is a hurricane in this moment, so he doesn’t give him any. He holds a hand out and waits for Soonyoung to get close enough to kiss him, then he pours his answer into Soonyoung’s waiting mouth like wine, completely uncaring of the way it tastes. He hopes it’s enough.

Judging by the way Soonyoung’s eyes are shining when he pulls away, it might be. “Cool,” he says, giggling sweetly. 

Wonwoo smiles, lopsided, loving. “Cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> cool :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dygonilly)


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